The Second Kiss
by paperspiral
Summary: Sabretooth/OC. Sequel to The First Kiss - the wolves leave an interesting gift on the Creeds' doorstep. While my Victor/Emma stories don't proceed on a timeline, if you want to read them in written order this is story 7.
1. Chapter 1

**Sabretooth belongs to Marvel, the rest are mine.**

**Comment and constructive criticism welcome.**

The sunshine was distracting him. Emma had him sitting out on the porch next to her while he read out loud as she cut up potatoes for their dinner. A grasshopper sprung up in front of them, catching his eye and inviting a chase, but she was determined to have him finish the chapter before he was allowed to play. Normally bugs annoyed the hell out of him but anything was better than reading about Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy.

"Word." He asked in an exhausted tone and pointed with a claw to the book.

"Determined." Creed continued to plod along at a slow pace, reading the last few sentences to her, then marked the page with a bit of string.

"Can I go now?"

"You'll be a well educated man yet, Mr. Creed." Emma sighed and nodded to him. They had been married for only three seasons, not even a full year. While she was safe and he was happy, there was still the whole matter of love that had not been addressed between them and it made her wonder on an on-going basis whether she had made the wrong choice and given her virtue away to someone undeserving all for the sake of her reputation.

The brush rustled around the cabin as Victor moved quickly through it, scaring the birds and squirrels and generally getting a much needed burst of exercise. With the potatoes finished, Emma brought them inside and let them soak in water before bothering to start making the dinner her husband had not caught yet.

Instead she grabbed the unfinished book Creed had left behind on the porch bench and brought it with her out into the green grass of the yard. She sat in the sun and reread the last chapter to herself until a shadow cast over her.

"I've secured the perimeter from all furry and winged beasts."

It took her a moment to realise he was being playful, this was not one of his personality attributes. "You're my hero." Her face split into a laughing smile and invited him in for a kiss, which he accepted before laying down in the grass next to her. They lay out in the sun for a while longer, Emma propped up against a tree and reading while playing with Victor's hair, which had grown down his back, longer than even hers, and Victor napping peacefully using her stomach as his pillow. A growl startled him awake as the sun began to set.

"Heard a wild raccoon." He muttered when he couldn't find anything to cause the noise.

"You heard my stomach, which does not sound like a raccoon, thank you." Emma had put down the book a quarter of an hour earlier when the light from the sun had diminished enough to put strain on her eyes from reading.

"Sorry, I should feed ya soon, 'fore yer tummy gets rabies." He pressed the heel of his hand into his right eye socket and rubbed the sleep out of it.

"Have fun." She kissed the top of his head as she got up and headed inside the cabin to start the fire. Creed wasn't the only one learning, he had taught her how to properly prepare and maintain a fire, which made her feel slightly less useless out in the middle of nowhere. She put the potatoes on to boil, knowing that her husband was extraordinarily quick to snare small prey. The laundry was finished drying out on the line so while there was time to waste, she picked up the basket and headed back outside to collect the sheets and unmentionables waving in the breeze.

An hour passed slowly and Emma was forced to turn the would be mashed potatoes into a cool, lemony potato salad that sat in the ice box waiting for his return. Finally he crept out of the shadows of the setting sun and raised three dead rabbits by the ears.

"I thought you said the perimeter was secure." Emma greeted him and pointed to a orange and white cat who had curled up in the corner of their lawn for a nap as though it belonged. "Where were you?"

"Huntin'." Creed grunted. "Rabbits are sparse lately. Somethin's been eatin' them up." He plunked down on the edge of the porch and started skinning the creatures and handing them off for her to tie on to the waiting rotisserie sticks.

"Are we still safe here?" Her mouth was pressed against the back of his bare shoulder blade, looking for comfort.

"Course we're safe, probably nothin' more than a wild dog." He handed her the last one and she skewered it as he went inside to wash his hands in the kitchen basin.

"Maybe we should move?" The rabbits were placed delicately over the fire.

"Don't start that again." His threat was punctuated by a growl. Emma had been talking about wanting to move to another city, somewhere with indoor plumbing and heating at the very least, but Victor was adamant about remaining on his land, outhouse and all, and he was starting to feel bullied and under appreciated for the roof he put over her head every night.

"When we start having children, you'll change your tune." She poked the fire needlessly as she muttered. Creed made a face to her back and slumped into his new brown recliner and put his feet up. He was in love with his new chair and though the money could have been better spent on a new mattress or possibly a crib for the future, he had his heart and mind set on the recliner since well before she had come into his life.

"When we start havin' children, they're gonna appreciate this house and not be spoiled little brats like their mother."

"I am not spoiled!" She got up from in front of the cooking food and marched over to the chair, hands on hips.

Seeing his little rabbit all riled up made him smile, angering her further enough to start hitting him on the shoulder with a tea towel.


	2. Chapter 2

**Sabretooth belongs to Marvel, the rest are mine.**

**Comment and constructive criticism welcome.**

Fall was fast approaching as the trees were letting their leaves drop. It was deceiving because the temperatures were still warm enough after the sun went down at night to continue to sit outside on the porch.

Creed stood outside the outhouse in the dead of night, watching the stars above him until the door opened slowly and Emma came out, her face washed with tears and her head bent in shame. He had smelled the blood and knew without asking that she was not pregnant. He took her hand and they walked back to the cabin in silence, Emma sniffling slightly and using the back of her hand to wipe her face.

It was no bother to him if they had to wait longer for a baby, but it seemed to him that having a child defined her as a person and she would not be completely happy until she was able to have something to coo over. He put her back into bed and crawled in next to her, falling asleep nearly immediately.

ooooo

It was like nothing had happened. Emma was resilient, and currently preparing a lunch from leftovers as Creed sat at the kitchen table, scrawling the alphabet on to a piece of paper with a pencil.

"Don't over think it." She adjusted his writing hand and set down a plate next to him.

"What's this?" He sniffed at it, concerned at how green everything looked.

"It's a salad."

"What the hell makes you think I'll eat a salad?"

"I put meat in it." She twisted a hand towel between her hands looking on the verge of tears. Creed ran his free hand through his hair, biting down an angry bark and slammed the pencil down.

"You tryin' t' starve me?"

"But I made you lunch." She replied confused and concerned for her safety.

"You call that lunch?" The force of his roar made her hair fly back from her forehead.

"I don't understand what I did wrong." Emma hid her face in her hands, her seventeen-year-old body shaking from both tears and fear in front of her husband. He grabbed her by the hair, making her cry out, and forced her to look at him.

He gave her a shake before throwing her down to the ground and stalking off into the woods.

Emma waited a moment before picking herself up off her behind and made her way back slowly to the kitchen table. She was so confused and so alone. The salad no longer looked appealing, but for the sake of not letting food go to waste, she lifted a fork and started to pick at it. She was beginning to suspect that something was horribly wrong with her husband, but she didn't know what. He flew off the handle frequently and at the smallest of issues, while on the other hand laughing at things that irritated her. At least this time he hadn't hit her.

The salad slowly disappeared as she munched on it while looking over his writing from earlier. The orange and white cat was twisting itself around her legs, startling her. They liked to keep the front door to the cabin open while the weather was warm and she hadn't noticed the cat enter.

"Get out, you don't belong here." Emma grabbed it by the scruff of its neck and tossed it outside, enjoying being aggressive toward something smaller than herself. The cat meowed back at her as it landed on the lawn and walked a few feet before settling back down in the grass with its back to her.

The cat suddenly perked up and began running and meowing off in the direction of the river. Unexpectedly, Creed walked up from the back of the cabin carrying fish with the animal at his heels, begging for scraps. Wordlessly he forcibly handed her the small school of fish he had caught, a disgruntled scowl on his face.

"I need meat, lady. Every meal."

"What about breakfast?" She asked, her ire rising at his return.

"Don't make me hit you." He threatened, stalking back into the cabin.

ooooo

Emma didn't speak again to him all night, instead she sat in bed and darned his pants, simmering in her anger. Little did she know, Creed was watching her through the window as he stood leaning against a tree with a cold beer in his hand. The fish had made for both lunch and dinner with enough left over to feed the cat with.

He hadn't told her about the abuse he had endured at the hands of his parents, locked away in a cellar for the better part of his childhood. The loneliness, the hunger, the pain and emptiness he had come to form his whole life around was something he lived with everyday, part of him ashamed at having been too weak to fight back, another part of him hoping this young thing in his bed could fix him and show him a new life.

His first instinct was always self preservation, him above anything else. If there was anything to be thankful for from his old man, it was the the need to fight and survive. A selfish being such as himself had no capacity to love, a monstrous being such as himself did not deserve to be given love.

And yet, Emma was trying.

Creed approached the window and leaned in against it, startling her enough to prick her finger with her needle.

"You makin' me muffins?" He sniffed the air, ignoring the blood beading up on her finger.

"I'm not making you anything." She sucked on it, trying to staunch the flow, her back still turned away from him.

"Really? Cuz I smell muffins."

"I saved a fish for your breakfast, the muffins are for me." Emma adjusted her position away from him and continued to darn, knowing full and well he loved her muffins.

Creed rubbed his forehead irritably. "Rabbit, I'm a grown man. As my wife you gotta keep me well fed so I can do my job."

"Victor, if you don't want to tell me what's going on, that's fine, but you can't just expect me to _know_ things." She huffed. He wasn't fooling her, she knew there was something else, something painful and buried that he was hiding from her. It took one to know one.

"Fine. Can I have a muffin now?" Creed conceded, arms propped up on the window sill.

"They're not done yet." Emma broke the thread and tossed his finished slacks on to his recliner and picked up her book, crushing herself into the pillows with a pout.


	3. Chapter 3

**Sabretooth belongs to Marvel, the rest are mine.**

**Comment and constructive criticism welcome.**

Emma was snooping under the guise of cleaning. Even when her husband was away on one of his mysterious jobs she was on edge. He was notorious for appearing out of nowhere, silent as the grave at any time and she didn't want to be caught looking through his things without an excuse.

She was up in the rafters, clearing out the dust bunnies and poking through a cedar chest. All she had found so far were his winter clothes. Victor Creed didn't have one shred of personal paraphernalia to speak of. No photographs, no jewelry, no childhood toys. He had essentials. A set of clothes for the seasons, tools for use on the grounds, some money squirreled away that she hadn't known about. Emma was about to finish her dusting and jump down when something out of the ordinary caught her eye.

Tucked away behind the cedar chest was a glass mason jar, half full of buttons.

"What're you smilin' about?" To prove her point, Creed had walked in and threw his autumn newspaper boy cap on to the table and shrugged off his jacket. Emma's legs swung absently over the edge of the attic floor and raised the jar.

"I found your button collection." She thought it was endearing, like a part of himself reflected in fact that he saved such little trinkets. Creed stared at her looking a bit ashamed.

"Gimme that, it's not for you to play with." He roughly pulled her down from the rafters and took the jar from her.

"I wasn't playing with it, I was just looking." Her brow furrowed at being scolded. "I think it's sweet that you have a collection."

Creed unscrewed the top and dropped in three new buttons, all mismatched. Before Emma had come into his life, he had been proud of the buttons he had collected, each one off of a man he had killed. Now with her innocent smile in mind, he felt sick with himself for saving such things.

"Are you alright? You just went pale."

"Yeah, fine. Just don't touch this again, hear me?" He pushed the jar back into its hiding place with the tips of his claws and went to fill a glass with water from the pitcher sitting on the counter.

"Do you...want to try again tonight?" Emma asked him timidly, coming up behind him and hugging him. His shoulders sagged and he let out a sigh, disentangling himself from her.

"I don't know, let me get in a nap." The bed was nice and welcoming as he collapsed on the quilt. She approached and began to unlace his dirty boots.

"You've been real tired lately." She murmured dusting them off and placing them by the door.

"Not enough meat."

"Well I don't do the hunting around here, do I?" Her fists went to her hips, tired of the same complaint from him.

"Well there ain't enough meat t'be caught for the both of us right now. Get offa my back!" He had propped himself up on his stomach and glared at her, already half asleep. Emma stuck her tongue out at him and stuffed her feet into her own boots, pulling down her jacket and mittens and leaving through the front door into the autumn afternoon.

oooo

She had no idea what she was doing. Finding a long stick, Emma walked slowly through the fallen leaves of the forest, not far enough away from the cabin to get lost, hoping to come upon something she could kill for dinner. Nothing moved around her, nothing edible at least. The trees swayed in the wind gracefully over her head, the sky clouding over threatening snow. It didn't seem so long ago that she was sitting out on the lawn reading her book.

An inhuman bleating came from past the ridge in front of her. She broke through the brush and saw that the land dropped by three feet quite suddenly. In front of her was an injured doe, laying on its side, her front legs slowly trying to move to escape. Emma dropped down and walked towards the animal, seeing her neck bloodied and a terrified look in her shiny black eyes. Softly, the legs stopped moving, the shine dulled, and her head collapsed, expelling all the air from her lungs.

Emma had never watched a creature die before and she found herself crying, stick dragging behind her, surrounded by swirling leaves. Something had killed the doe. Something that was still nearby. Living with Victor made her aware when eyes were watching her, and there were eyes watching her now. Without trying to spook her stalker, she backed towards the ridge inch by inch. When her heels hit the frozen dirt, Emma hopped the three feet, dropping her stick, and tore her way back to the cabin as fast as she could, slamming and locking the door behind her, startling her grumpy husband.

Instead of comforting her when she sank to the floor and began wailing, Creed forced a pillow over his head and clamped it down over his ears, trying his best to ignore her. Finally all cried out, Emma shook off her mitts and coat, unlaced her boots and crawled into the bed beside him, trying to weasel her way under his protective arm.

"You cry too damn much." He muttered into the pillow.

"I watched a doe die." She squeezed his bicep, which rested across her head.

"Yeah, that's pretty sad." His eyes opened.

"And then something chased me out of the woods."

Creed closed his eyes, assuming she was exaggerating. "Was it the bear from last winter that don't exist?"

"I told you, it was a bear that attacked the cabin while you were away!" Suddenly she was sitting up and spitting mad, yelling at his prone figure lying on his stomach in bed.

"An' I told you that bears hibernate in the winter."

"Go out there and find out what chased me!" She shoved his shoulder.

"I'm tryin' t'take a goddamn nap!" Creed picked her up and hefted her over his shoulder brusquely. He unbolted the front door and threw her from the porch on to the lawn in just her work dress, apron, and stocking feet. Emma heard her wrist snap and she cried out in pain, but instead of helping, he slammed the door shut again and she could hear the lock slide into place again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Sabretooth belongs to Marvel, the rest are mine.**

**Comments and constructive criticism welcome.**

At length, the front door to the cabin finally opened and Creed stepped out to sniff the air. Emma was cradling her wrist against her chest while shivering on the porch, her stocking feet tucked under her. The sun was low in the sky by then and no dinner was ready because she had been locked out of the house.

"Lemme see yer wrist." He beckoned from the doorway but she refused to budge. "Stop poutin' and get inside." Emma got up slowly but quickly scurried inside, the house immensely warmer than outside. She plunked herself down in front of the fire and wrapped a blanket around her as best she could. "Now lemme see yer wrist."

Creed gently took her hand and pulled it towards him. Her wrist was red and swollen but it didn't look broken. She was able to move her fingers without much trouble. He returned her hand and adjusted the blanket around her, rising up from the floor and putting the kettle on the fire to boil.

"I'll go hunt fer yer monster tonight." He sat back down on the thread bare rug with an open bottle of Jack Daniels. While napping, dreams had swirled through his mind of Emma being taken sometime in the night by the shadows, and no matter how fast he ran, she was elusively out of reach. The smell of her fear as she sat out on the porch had undoubtedly crept into his nostrils during his sleep which disturbed him the most. His little rabbit scared and missing and he was unable to find her to protect her.

The kettle came to a boil, it hissed steam until Creed removed it, poured the hot water over a tea back, and left it for his wife by her feet while he bound his hair up in a pony tail with a strip of Emma's red ribbon and pulled his woollen socks off, removed his shirt and unsheathed the length of his claws until they were talons at the tip of each finger. He looked over his shoulder and found Emma's eyes widened with fear in the fire lit, staring at the razor sharp claws.

"Stay inside."

Dusk was settling around the area, the trees still whispering in the wind. Creed jumped silently into the grasses and cut through them with ease and stealth, making the transition to twigs and dry leaves as the lawn gave way to forest with the same silence. There was old blood on the air, which he followed to find an entirely ravaged deer corpse, a raccoon was gnawing on the lolling tongue. The doe smelled like wolves and...something he could identify but made no sense in the situation.

The wolf pack had moved east and the confusing smell had moved with them. Creed made a thorough sniff and found a patch of urine up the side of a tree. His nose wrinkled noting that the owner needed to drink more water. Moving in concentric circles around the property, nothing else caught his attentions. Finally he gave in, fished a cigarette and match from his pocket and sat at the edge of the cliff that looked over the ravine. He struck the match on one of the rocks nearby and inhaled the tobacco deeply, letting the smoke burn his lungs before exhaling.

His rabbit had been so frightened and no wonder, wolves were nothing to him, not even an entire pack, but he had claws and tenacity, she had nothing to protect her. The fact that the wolves had ventured so close to prey on their dinner was concerning. If this was there new hunting grounds, Creed would have to start marking his territory and give them a reason to hunt elsewhere, lest his cabin be insulated by wolf pelts.

His cigarette had burned down to the nub and he watched the lit tip fly into the darkness as he flicked the butt out over the cliff into the anemic water below before bringing his heavy frame to his feet and walked back through the woods to his wife.

Creed made the effort to retract his claws as he reached for the knob of the front door. Emma had left her place in front of the fire and crawled under the covers, her head barely peeking out from the quilt. It was far too early for bed and with his mid-afternoon nap, he was not inclined to call it an evening and head to bed himself. Instead he crouched by the edge of the bed and pushed his fingers through the black hair visible from under the covers.

"Em. You awake?" He purred.

"Yes." She pulled the quilt down about her face and looked at him. Her eyes flicked to his finger tips then back up to his eyes.

"There's a pack of wolves in the area, you should be alright but I don't want ya leavin' the perimeter fer a while unless yer with me." Creed used his claw to stroke the side of her face. "Now I want'cha to stay here while I go in t'town."

"You're leaving me?" Emma shot up, kicking the covers off of herself and grabbing his bare arm as he reached for his shirt.

"Girl, yer drivin' me crazy. I'm gonna go have a drink in town. Stay. Put." He reached up high above her head to fetch a small blade be kept hidden in the rafters, the blade no more than five inches, the handle tightly bound in leather strips. He handed it to her, handle first, and advised her to keep it under her pillow while he was gone if she was so scared.

Emma gripped it tightly in her thin fingers and burrowed deeper under the covers as the door shut behind him on the way out.


	5. Chapter 5

**Sabretooth belongs to Marvel, the rest are mine.**

**Comments and constructive criticism welcome.**

**This chapter is dedicated to MorganaCraven, thank you!**

Creed took a deep breath through his nose in the brisk cold air and stumbled a bit on the dirt path back home. The beer and whiskey had been great, but maybe the rum had been too much. The rum was making his insides curdle a bit and a headache was pressing at his temples screaming to get out. His body was quickly pumping the poison out though, but in the meantime, he enjoyed the drunkenness and the chilly night air.

He had closed the bar down with two other local drunkards so it must have been about one in the morning. He laughed a little to himself, unfamiliar with the sound. It felt like a heavy blanket dropped from around him, and he laughed again.

A heavy clawed hand wiped at his eyes as his focus began to come back. His stride strengthened and the laughter no longer bubbled within him. He was sobering. The night wrapped around him and his predatory instincts were taking hold again as he said goodbye to the carefree, light drunk feeling.

The lights were out in the cabin. He could hear Emma softly snoring inside and the fire popped. The door opened with a soft creak and made a mental note to buy some oil the next time he was in town, else he would need to start creeping in through the windows to keep his arrivals and departures unannounced.

His boots slid off with soft thumps on the hardwood floor, and his woolen socks padded across the thread bare rug to the bed. Softly undressing, he watched Emma dozing. His little girl, his little wife, his little tasty meal. Maybe the alcohol wasn't quite worn off. He gave a lazy half-smile as he bent over her and took in her scent.

Creed hooked a claw on the quilt and dragged it slowly down to uncover her body. Her shift was caught up over her thighs and he could see through the fabric. She wasn't wearing underwear, as he liked, and he could smell the tang of her kitty. His smile curled into lust and he began to crawl into bed, hefting his weight above her but not on top of her, not yet. He bent down close, intent on a romantic gesture of awakening her with a kiss, and the less romantic gesture of pressing his hard cock against her opening.

Emma's eyes fluttered open in fear as a strand of his hair hit her face. Before she registered his face, she took in the bright, wild eyes staring her right in the face and she pushed up abruptly. Something wet and fluid ran down her hands and the light in the green eyes started to fade.

Victor tried to take in a breath, his jaw opening and closing uselessly. Finally he sat up and stared down at the blade sticking out of his gut, shoved in all the way to the hilt. It had slid in like cutting butter, which surprised him. She was in shock underneath him. Emma was looking at her blood covered hands but not registering it. She looked at the knife and reached out tentatively to touch the handle then her frightened eyes traveled up to his.

With a practiced hand, Creed let out a snarl and yanked the knife out of his abdomen, letting it drop on the rug, then pressed a hand into the wound and let out a sigh.

"You just stabbed me."

Emma couldn't respond, she was still shaking, staring back at her hands. Well, his erection was gone. Creed reached out and tapped her cheek, probably harder than was necessary to catch her attention.

"Look, I'm all better now. Snap out of it." Emma looked up at him, but she wasn't crying.

"I -." She started quietly. "I thought you were the bear."

A throaty laugh erupted from deep in his chest at the ridiculousness of being mistaken for a bear by his wife. He could even fore go the fact that she tried to gut him, he was so pleased with the thought.

"Why are you laughing?"

"You sayin' I need a shave?"

Emma gave an unsure smile and tried to get out of bed, but her legs were still pinned underneath his bulk. "I need to wash..." She wiggled her fingers at him, hoping his mood wouldn't flip from content to fierce.

Something devilish flickered in his eyes and Emma couldn't tell if it was going to turn out well for her. His tongue snaked out of his mouth and started to lick his own blood off of her slim fingers. She wasn't sure how to react until his tongue started undulating in the centre of her palm and her body took over.

Creed snaked his bare legs underneath hers to lift her butt up off the bed and into his lap. Her bare skin pressed against his shaft, the heat matching her own. Emma blushed, her lashes lowered trying to preserve her lady-like dignity even when he could feel her wetness starting to drip down into his lap.

He began to purr as he ran his tongue up the length of her neck, like a dog lapping at his water dish. His lips found her throat and he began to nip while bouncing her in his lap so her slick slit rubbed up and down his length teasingly.

Generally, Victor was a selfish lover, taking what he wanted with no heed to her desires, but tonight he was feeling generous. His hands grabbed at the fabric of her night dress and pulled it free from her body. She shivered from the draft coming in through the closed window above the bed and her nipples hardened. They quieted their actions and heavy breathing for a soft kiss between them before Creed lifted her up and threw her across the bed, face up with her legs dangling over the side.

Among the many ridiculous things he had overhead in the bar that night, had been conversation between one inordinately drunk patron and another. One was trying to atoll the virtues of tasting the ripe fruit between a woman's legs to the other and getting nowhere, but he had piqued Creed's interest from the other side of the room. Tonight may be a testament to whether his hyper keen hearing was a blessing or a curse.

"What are you doing?" Emma sat up as he knelt down on the now blood splattered rug, pushing her knees apart.

He easily reached out as he hooked her knees over his shoulders and pushed her back down on the bed. His nostrils filled with her lust and flicked a tongue out testing her, teasing her cunt. Emma gasped and retracted, but Creed just pulled her back in to him.

After a moment of hesitation, looking at what he was about to put his mouth on, he flattened his tongue and ran it up the wet slit up to the little nub that was hidden under a hood. Emma moaned and her hips arched to meet him as her face flushed red and she draped an arm over her head.

There was something savage about licking her kitty, letting her writhe from the touch of his tongue on the bed on top of the covers, splayed out and beautifully naked in her youth.

Encouraged in her mewling, he tested her further, dipping his tongue deep into her tight little hole then circling her clitoris. There was something dirty about licking the same hole he would soon be cumming into, filling her with his dick and hot semen, but the thought only excited him further and his hand wandered down between his own legs and gripped the base of his cock tightly, giving it a quick couple of jerks. It was dry and unpleasant.

Tasty as it was, Victor refused to defer his pleasure for hers. He got up off the floor and adjusted her on the bed, now laying length wise, and settled between her legs, much to her dismay and protest. Ignoring her, Creed started to rut against her wet, spit covered pussy. It was heaven, the ease as his dick rubbed against her skin, nudging her hooded bud, sometimes butting against her hole, begging for him to enter.

Emma twisted the sheets in her fists, her legs trying to find purchase around his waist, arching up from the bed. Finally she cried out, encouraging him to rut faster against her. Creed grabbed her hips and pressed her down into the bed so she couldn't squirm away from him, and obliged her with strong, hard strokes until he felt her shudder and cry out, the muscles of her vagina tensing and releasing, licking at his penis.

On the edge of his own orgasm, Creed slipped inside and picked up the pace of his thrusts. She was hot and lubricated and he pushed himself as deep as her opening would allow, despite Emma making uncomfortable faces and noises. He was large and she was small and the cut head of his dick was bumping her cervix.

The bed was slamming into the wall with each of his thrusts. He was getting fervent and he was pumping quicker and his hips were moving in a sharp upward jerk. His claws slid out of their sheaths and ripped into the mattress on either side of his wife. Her palms splayed out against his chest and down his abdomen as she arched against him again, her nimble fingers finding her clitoris and starting to stroke it toward her own end. Creed loved it and drank her in, his vision was going a bit hazy from his lust overspilling, but he continued to watch as she pleasured herself while he drove into her.

Both of their mats of pubic hair were damp from sweat and saliva, both of them were breathing deep and heavy. Creed lifted her up to press against his body, her hand no longer able to fit in the space between their bodies, and forced her up and down his thick shaft until finally, gratefully, he exploded with a great roar and a soul shaking shudder, dropping his wife back into the pillows.

They lay down together among the mess they made of the bed. She had learned early on that he did not like to be touched so soon after cumming so she waited a moment before finding his hand among the sheets and pressing his fingers back into her kitty, her hips moving into them, begging for just a little more.

Creed smiled at her and flashed his fangs, loving his little rabbit's new found appreciation for his body.


	6. Chapter 6

**Sabretooth belongs to Marvel, the rest are mine.**

**Comments welcome.**

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Victor and Emma had been getting along much better since last night. They were both happily worn out, their limbs heavy, their minds at peace, slightly dozy. While there was still work to be done around the cabin, they wordlessly cooperated in their tasks without much urgency. The laundry hung out on the line in the misty afternoon air, the cabin had been swept and firewood chopped. Now Emma was on her knees among the frosted fallen leaves, slowly picking her way looking for mushrooms while Creed sat on a nearby stump with a cigarette, watching over her.

"What d'you want fer dinner?" He asked quietly, his voice carrying easily over the distance between them.

"Venison?" She sat up and wiped her wrist over her forehead.

Creed nodded solemnly. He would much rather hunt big game and keep them fed for a week instead of rabbits every night. Besides, his stomach was itching for a nice, big, juicy steak. They would have to eat late, but it would be worth it.

Emma stood and carried the basket of truffles and morels over to him, ready to walk back to the cabin with her escort. He lifted his heavy frame up off the dead tree but perked up as he caught the sounds of something moving a fair distance away. Something heavier than the average squirrel was making it's way through the trees. The steps were hesitant like a deer but irregular like a man without purpose. The winds brought him no scent and his sharp eyes didn't see anything moving around them.

A wolf howl far in the distance caused everything to stop moving. Emma silently closed a hand around his but didn't pull. Satisfied that whatever was lurking around the brush wasn't a threat, Creed lead the way back home with his wife in tow.

oooo

It was very late when they both crawled into bed, but the venison and mushrooms Emma had made for dinner had been very well worth it. The rest of the deer hung strung up outside the back door, waiting for Creed to skin it properly come the morning. The carcass was high enough off the ground for him not to worry about a rodent running off with it, and in exchange, he cut the head off the deer and tossed it a few feet away from his kill to appease the scavengers. He had done this for many years and it had yet to fail him.

Emma was pressed into him against his stomach under the quilt, asleep before her head hit the pillow, and he had every intention of following suit but snarling and low barking on the edge of the property made every muscle in his body tighten in anticipation of danger. The wolves had come. A wounded squeal let him know that the alpha male had put the pup in its place.

A slow, measured movement of the pack as one moved across the yard towards the cabin. Creed heard clicking claws on his porch as a few dared get that close to a human. He waited to see if the pack was just passing through, or if they would tear down his fresh kill. A heavy thud from behind the cabin sounded, confusing Victor, but his hearing let him know that the wolves seemed to have ignored the meat dangling from the roof and had moved on. The last of them slipped through the grasses to the rear and toward the river like a shadow moving across the moon.

oooo

Emma found her husband in the back the next morning. He stood staring at a bare rope dangling from the contraption that been holding the deer from the night before, hands in the pockets of his slacks and a look of angry disbelief on his face. He scrunched his bare, clawed toes in the frosty grass a few times before finally acknowledging her presence.

"The rope was cut."

She didn't respond, only wrapped her heavy shawl around her tightly.

"Wolves don't carry knives."

Emma wrapped her arm through his and tugged him back inside, which he permitted. She sat him at the kitchen table and set the kettle to boil on the fire while she added more wood and threw a blanket over his shoulders.

"Do you want your socks?" Her breath came out in puffs. She hated the thought of suffering another winter in the poorly insulated cabin but knew her place to be silent about it. Instead she did a lot of shivering in his presence. Victor nodded and took the pair of handmade socks she offered him and stretched to put them over his large feet, all the while trying to figure out what had happened the night before from the noises he heard and the smells he picked out.

She started breakfast of eggs and toast. There was no longer venison to serve but neither of them spoke of it while they ate. Emma made a little whimpering noise making Creed peer up at her from over his plate from his thoughts.

"It's starting to snow."

"We should go into town." He grunted, returning to his eggs.

Finished with her plate, Emma put her dishes in the sink to soak and pulled out a nub of a pencil and a scrap of paper and started to list things they would need in the event that the snow didn't stop like last year, and getting to town would be difficult. Periodically she would ask him to spell out a word while she added it to the list. In the end, it was a lot longer than Creed would have liked, but he pulled out the tin on top of the mantel and shook out the money he had collected from work over the last few months and gave her everything in two giant fists.

"Aren't you going to help me count it?" She asked as he dropped the money on the table and headed for the door.

Irritated with his stolen kill and stumbling through spelling exercises at his age, Creed answered her with the slam of the front door. He stuffed his feet into boots on the bench outside then stomped to the outhouse until she was ready to leave.

Emma counted the money, put nearly half of it back into his tin, then collected her things and got ready for the walk into town. She grabbed the rucksack and Victor's coat then went to knock on the outhouse door softly, to which it opened, Victor sitting grumpily on the lid of the toilet. She beckoned to him and lifted his coat up.

Creed pulled himself out of the little washroom and begrudgingly put one arm down the sleeve then his other and did up the front buttons while Emma stood on tip toe and pulled his cap on.


	7. Chapter 7

**Sabretooth and Wolverine belong to Marvel, the rest are mine.**

**Comments welcome.**

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Somewhere out in the woods, Creed had lost a mitten. He didn't _need_ mittens as his healing factor seemed to regulate his body temperature, but Emma had made them just the same and she was so upset that her hard work was laying out in the snow that Creed had felt goaded into turning around and marching back to where he had been patrolling.

As he thought, the snow had not stopped falling for three days, sometimes soft and fat flakes, sometimes unrelenting sleet. A hard shell of ice coated the snow banks so it was easy to follow his sunken foot steps back to the ridge.

Deer hooves and paw prints were scattered around the trees and a couple of blue jays watched him from the bare branches.

At last he could see his mitten, but it was nowhere near his own foot prints. Creed walked around strange prints in the snow to retrieve it and gave it a sniff. Someone had been handling it within the last twenty minutes. Someone whom Creed could not have identifies among the wilderness surrounding him, which disturbed him greatly.

He fondled the mitt while looking around and down over cliff into the valley, his favourite watch point. The stream below was once a mighty river, and while the waters had dried up significantly, there were some spots that were still deceptively deep. Creed, having lived in the area for almost a decade, knew them all, including the one where there was a gaping hole in the ice.

A wolf was laying on the bank watching the water, while a handful of others popped in and out of the woods down below. They caught Creed's scent and watched him cautiously when suddenly a hand slapped out of the hole on to the ice and quickly lost it's grip, startling them all.

After a moment's hesitation, Victor finally scrambled down the side of the cliff as quick and agile as he could given his heavy boots and wool jacket. He slid the last four feet then made his way to the edge of the ice.

Cautiously, he inched over the thin, frozen water towards the break just as the hand came flailing up again for purchase on the ground. Creed reached out lightening quick and grabbed it, pulling as hard as his position on the ice would allow. Slowly, a naked, hypothermic boy emerged from the waters and Victor couldn't have been more confused. The boy smelled like a wolf when he clearly was not. In fact, he was just on the cusp of manhood, even if he was rather short for his age.

The boy shivered uncontrollably but otherwise didn't show any signs of life. His blue lips were pulled back and among his chattering teeth were sharp, tiny little fanged incisors. Creed slipped his coat off and wrapped him up in it, lifting his small body into his arms. The wolves, satisfied that their own had found his right home, gave a last look at the pair, then slipped off into the woods silently.

Snow had begun to fall again.

oooo

Creed was scratching at the door. Emma got up from her place on the bed, ignored the orange cat who had somehow come to call their cabin home, and opened the front door, confused as to what could have stopped him from doing the same.

Victor stood in front of her, holding a teenage boy wrapped in his coat in his arms. His expression was one of disbelief.

"What on Earth have your brought me?" She pulled them both inside, the boy looking colder than ice itself, and shut the door firmly.

"He was in the valley, fell into th' water." Creed have the boy whole-heartedly over to his wife, who struggled under the weight and collapsed on the bed with her burden.

"Get yourself warm then help me with him." Emma dug through the trunk at the end of the bed and pulled out a pair of Victor's woolen socks, an one of her old dressing gowns, seeing as Victor's clothes were far too big for the boy. She warmed up some water on the fire then, with her husband's help, cleaned the boy up.

He was covered in dry blood that no rushing water could clear, only good old-fashioned scrubbing. He had mud twined in his hair that was wild as the wolves themselves, and generally no regard for his personal hygiene. Creed stopped helping halfway through and put the kettle on instead of watching his wife clean the boy's private parts, but obliged when she had dressed him and called for a pair of shears. He had been given plenty of hair cuts with those shears and knew where it was heading.

The boy was finally beginning to pink up as Emma tucked him into their bed, as close to the fire as possible, but was still quite unconscious. The boy was probably no older that herself, which made Victor laugh as he watched her faun over him like a worried mother hen.

"Rabbit, there ain't enough room in that bed fer three of us." He dared to point out. The kettle came to a boil and he poured the water over their tea bags.

"It's not bedtime yet, I'll think of something." She murmured while stroking the kid's black hair from his forehead delicately.

oooo

He wasn't going to lie, Creed loved being this close to her. Emma was crammed into the bed between himself and the kid, spooning against him and fitting perfectly in the little half moon shape they created together. He breathed deep of her and nuzzled into her neck through her hair. She giggled softly as his breath tickled against her skin.

His hands were exploring her over top her nightie, feeling the soft mounds of her breasts, the flat expanse of her belly, the warm heat radiating from between her legs. She gentle pushed his hands away, whispered about the boy beside them and what if he were to wake up?

Creed replied that he didn't care. He would be as silent as the night. His fingers found their way under her gown and crawled up her thighs, meanwhile he moved to roll her underneath him. As good as his word, he was quiet, slow, and gentle. Emma had to muffle herself a few times as the initial pain of him entering her came and went, and when put too much weight on her, forgetting himself.

The boy was beginning to stir just as their lovemaking began to get urgent. Both froze until the boy became settled again. Smiles and soft chuckles were shared briefly and then Creed returned to his thrusting and nipping at her shoulders and neck. The bed began to knock against the wall which Emma could not stop no matter if she tried.

He was not accustomed to quietly announcing his arrival so when he tried, it sounded more like he had been wounded, coupled with him hunched over and catching his breath. Emma couldn't tell if he was pleased or upset but felt him pull out of her body, hike up his pants, and fall back into place behind her. His arms wrapped around her protectively and almost immediately began to snore.

Emma pulled her gown down sheepishly and turned back on her side to attempt sleep when she was startled to find a pair of blue eyes watching her.

"How long have you been watching?" She gasped, causing Victor to awaken and lift himself up on an elbow.

The boy didn't respond. He actually didn't seem awake, almost as though he were sleeping with his eyes open. They were bloodshot and unfocused. Creed reached over and put a finger over each, easing the eyelids shut.

"It's fine rabbit, he ain't all there yet. Go to sleep."

They both lay their heads down in unison but Emma couldn't help but watch the boy, now dozing softly, giving little snorts periodically, and grabbing the blankets in two great fists while lying on his stomach.


	8. Chapter 8

**Sabretooth and Wolverine belong to Marvel, the rest are mine.**

**Comments welcomed.**

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**Emma sat on the cobblestones of the fireplace and stirred the porridge, all the time watching the boy, still asleep under the covers.

"Oatmeal's burnin'." Victor grunted from his recliner, his toes flexing as he stretched out.

Emma let out a noise and pulled the pot from the hot embers. That was the third time this week, but it wasn't too bad, she would just add more brown sugar.

"You want some?" She lifted the pot and spoon up in his direction.

"Not after you burned it." He teased.

"You're so awful to me." Emma fumed, causing him to laugh. This awoke the boy.

Everyone stared at everyone else in the room silently until Emma smiled kindly and said, "Good morning. How are you feeling?"

Instead of answering, he looked around the one room cabin, taking everything in. His eyes finally fell on Creed in the corner on his chair at the foot of the bed, watching him carefully.

"Are you hungry?" Emma had spooned some porridge into a little wooden bowl and held it up to him. Sitting up in the bed, he took in that he was wearing a woman's night gown and frowned slightly. His hands lifted to his black hair and found that it was cut short, but it was still thick and unmanageable. Finally he took the bowl she offered him and slowly ate, making a face over the first few mouthfuls. "Sorry, I burned it, but I made it with milk."

"Thank you." He said softly.

Encouraged by his words, Emma lifted her giant shawl up over her shoulders and came to the bed to wrap him in it and sit beside him, quietly confiding in him how worried she had been, softly stroking his hair while he ate.

Creed watched jealously from his chair at his wife's tender affections being bestowed on another man.

"What's yer name?" He growled.

The boy swallowed his mouthful and wiped his lips with the back of his hand before responding. "Logan."

Creed thought briefly but didn't recognize the name, there were no Logans in the area. "You've been sneakin' around my property fer a long while, boy. Dumb sumbitch, didn't the wolves tell ya t'stay away from the ice?"

Emma bared her teeth at him angrily. "Don't be unkind, Victor." She hissed, still holding the boy. Logan pushed the bowl back into her hands, finished with the food, and watched Creed over his shoulder warily. She stood to wash the bowl before the oatmeal turned to cement and when she turned around, Logan was pulling the sleeping gown over his head, standing nude in the bare morning light save for the socks on his feet. "What are you doing?"

"Thank you, but I need t'get back." He handed her the garments, pulling at the socks.

"Don't you dare leave this house without a shred of clothing on, young man!" Emma stood her ground firmly, causing the boy to step back slightly at being admonished.

Creed broke the silence with a loud laugh. "Sweetheart, the kid might be short, but he's older than you. You ain't got no right callin' him 'young man', and you sure ain't his mother. He wants t'leave and traipse around naked as the day he was born in the snow, we ain't stoppin' him."

Seeing that the girl was trumped by, presumably her husband, Logan handed her the socks and made for the door, sprinting off across the lawn into the woods.

oooo

His sharp blue eyes surveyed the landscape. It was well past midnight but he was able to see much more than the human eye ever could. He lowered himself down into the bare bushes as the cabin door opened swiftly and the black-haired girl came tromping out in her night shift, heavy boots, and a man's jacket wrapped around her, dashing toward the outhouse around the back of the property. The door creaked closed but was left open barely an inch in her haste.

Logan raced across the snow covered lawn as the outhouse door slammed shut, and in seconds, he jumped into the cabin and was startled to find the blond man slowly getting out of bed and looking harried at the late night awakening. The two stared at each other until the other got up from the bed. Logan has greatly underestimated the man's height, he had nearly two feet on him and his bare shoulders strained against the skin. He looked a bit underfed and lean, probably due to the poor hunting since Logan and the wolf pack had moved in and provided competition.

He remained in place, squatting, braced to run again, near the door. The blond man was turning meaner right in front of his eyes. "Close the damn door!" He finally roared, to which Logan clumsily complied. Logan had been wrong to assume he was the only wild man in these woods. The other raised a pointed, clawed finger at him and growled.

They both heard the outhouse door open and more tromping of heavy boots back to the front door. The blond man grabbed the night gown from a simple wooden chair of the kitchen table and threw it into Logan's chest, raising his pointed finger another inch. "If I catch you naked in front o' my wife again, I'll rip yer throat out."

The door opened and the girl knocked the boots off, looking up in time to see Logan pulling the sleep shift over his head. Her face lit up and after the door was closed yet again, she wrapped him in a chilly hug.

Logan stood still, the blond man towering over them both with a glower on his face. "You came back." She murmured into his ear, finally beginning to let him go. "Victor, he came back."

"Dammit woman, I ain't blind." Victor, the blond giant, dropped his heavy frame back on the bed and it creaked angrily at him. "And he ain't sleepin' in the bed this time." As with most households, his word was law and he rolled over in bed to mark the end of the conversation.

The girl jumped a few times, trying to reach something high up in the rafters, finally catching the corner of a quilt and dragging it down. She lifted it over her head and approached Logan, draping it over him as well. In the low glow of the fire light she grinned excitedly and said, "My name's Emma. Don't mind Creed, he's just grumpy that I woke him up."

"Mind Creed!" The man in bed shouted, thankfully the force was muffled by the quilt over their heads.

"I'm glad you came back, I was worried about you." The girl was more than worried, Logan thought to himself, she was lonely.

"They left me." He confided quietly. She was taller than him by a few inches so he had to look up into her face.

"Who?" Emma inquired, her face dropping into concern.

"My family. The wolves. They left me."


	9. Chapter 9

**Sabretooth and Wolverine belong to Marvel, the rest are mine.**

**Comments welcomed.**

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While the orange cat was curled up under the covers of the nice warm bed back in the cabin, Emma was sweeping away some of the snow on the porch, Logan was chopping firewood as ordered by Creed, and the man himself was replacing a few rotten boards of wood on the outhouse. The rhythmic noises of the hammer and axe ate up the winter silence.

"There, now you can pee without the wind shootin' up yer bum." Victor put down his toolbox and knocked his boots off on the cleared step. "That's enough! Bring it inside!" He shouted over to the boy in his field.

Logan hadn't spoken much in the last two days. He did was he was told, slept in front of the fire, and ate the food Emma made without complaint. He seemed depressed at being abandoned, and rightfully so.

She had tried to cheer him up by reading out loud in the evenings, but that only seemed to put both men to sleep instead. Now she just left him to stare out the windows at night.

"Can you talk to him?" Emma tugged on Creed's sleeve as he made his way up the steps.

"Do I look like his daddy?" He snapped irritably at her tugging. He pulled out of her grasp and headed inside for his scarf and mittens. "I'm goin' out t'catch dinner."

Emma was able to gauge his irritation with being at home by how early he left to go hunt for dinner. It was before noon, so he was most likely sick of being near her. She reached out and grabbed his hand, pulling him back into the cabin for some privacy while Logan stacked the wood outside. Creed fought her until he was free to leave again, and stomped out in the snow to the road through the trees.

"You wanna go for a walk?" Logan dusted his hands off and adjusted the jacket he was borrowing from Victor which overwhelmed him.

"Kay." She said quietly and wrapped her scarf around her face once more before shutting the cabin door securely.

Logan led her to the road where Victor had headed, but was now gone from sight. His tracks in the snow suggested he had sprinted across the giant field and into another stand of trees. He held her mittened hand while they each walked in a track on the road made by a car or carriage earlier in the day.

"How long you been married?" He tried to start conversation.

"A year." She replied, walking with one foot in front of the other. "How long have you been with the wolves?"

"Just a little bit more than a year I guess." A few more steps. "You both don't act like newlyweds, how did that happen?"

Emma sighed dramatically, her eyes on her feet. "He ruined my reputation in town and I was kicked out of where I was living. He needed socks and I needed a husband. It seemed like a fair trade at the time."

Logan laughed causing her to smile sheepishly. "I hope you don't regret it in ten years."

Emma was starting to see it now, that the boy was actually a man. His chin was strong with a growing shadow of a beard, his grip firm and unwavering to support her. "Why are you with the wolves?"

"We met up in the woods some time ago, kept runnin' into each other. Eventually we started to hunt together and then I started to travel with them." They had walked nearly a mile before deciding to turn back since the road they were on only led them to the next town over and that was too far .

"Where did you come from?"

"It's my turn to ask a question." He countered. By the time they reached the lane to the cabin again, they both decided to continue their walk into town since there was nothing left to do for the afternoon.

Mostly it was quiet, everyone staying inside after the snow fall the night before and more on the way. Merchants were only beginning to rid their doorsteps of the snow piles and very few tracks carved out the road. Emma walked along the raised porches of the stores while Logan walked alongside her on the street with his hands in his pockets. His gaze skipping rapidly, his nose twitching like Victor's did sometimes.

"What?" Emma paused at the edge of the porch.

"What what?" Logan's brow furrowed.

"Something's wrong?" She pointed to her nose.

The boy opened his mouth, but changed his mind about the words. "Don't seem friendly in town." He began to walk forward again, the coat flapping around his knees as a wind picked up.

"It's not you, it's me." She replied, her boot heels knocking against the wood.

"May just be the pair of us."

They were both silent, slowly making their way to the far end of Main Street before turning around and making their way back. A store front door swung open, startling Emma as it was directly in front of her path.

"Sorry Miss," A middle-aged man with thinning hair gave a curt bow. "Your package is in, just missed the storm." He handed her a bundle of brown wrapping and twine and firmly shut the door again to block against the cold.

"Strange folk around here." Logan grunted, reminiscent of Creed.

"Yes." She laughed quietly. "Shall we head home?"

The boy offered her his hand as she jumped from the porch into the snow beside him and they began the walk back to the cabin to make it welcoming for when the master returned.


End file.
